Little Shit
by Emorull
Summary: Supernatural drabble, hints at Destiel, Cas is a human and adjusting drabble


Castiel stared blankly out the window of the airplane, yes, he, an angel of the lord, was taking an airplane to see whatever phenomena had grabbed the Winchester's attention this time. He watched as Dean flirted up the flight attendants and Sam hid behind his book and laptop in mortification.

He tried not to smile as Dean slowly fell asleep while explaining a child's television show that he thought Castiel had to see. Yes, traveling the human way had its perks.

The plane shook as another patch of turbulence struck. Dean's head started to drop off of Castiel's shoulder, but Castiel carefully pushed his head back up. He did not want Dean to sleep in such a position, his head hanging down like that; it would result in terrible neck pain when Dean woke up. He also found the weight and warmth of Dean's head on his shoulder rather pleasant for some reason.

Perhaps it was it's assuring effect that Dean was there and alive.

Sam glanced up from his book across the aisle, "Do you want me to move him? He's a snuggler."

Castiel shook his head, brushing his chin against Dean's short hair. "No, he is fine."

Sam pursed his lips and set his book down slowly, "Are you?" He murmured, eyes calmly set on Castiel.

"Yes." Castiel croaked, "It is.. disconcerting to be… When I was an angel, with my Grace running through me, it was.. As Dean would say, a buzz, a constant, wonderful buzz. It's gone, I'm human." Castiel sighed, "Now I have to wait in line to use the lavatory and eat constantly, also, as a human I am prone to headaches and feeling miserable apparently. I imagine it is because of my now non-existent Grace."

Dean stirred and made a strange sigh-like gurgle.

"That sounds sucky, well… Um. If you need anything, just ask." Sam smiled lightly, Castiel recognized the expression as Sam's concerned face.

"I will."

Sam nodded and went back his book with a murmur, "Good."

Castiel watched as the tall hunter quickly lost his connection to the world to the pages wormed with small print. Castiel sighed and turned to look back out the window, watching the clouds cloaking the ground below part and swirl beneath the plane as they flew by.

There had been a time when he wouldn't have required this metal contraption to find this view, but now… It was necessary. He sighed again, forcing his mind carefully blank instead letting it darken with angry sadness.

The clouds looked nothing like cotton balls, although people commonly compared the two, Castiel noted distractedly. Cotton balls were soft and solid were as clouds were cloud and the moment you neared they seemed to vanish, like fog. Castiel knew from his time as an angel, the clouds had always made him feel… Alone. As if there was nothing there, for the seemingly solid clouds where anything but solid.

Clouds were like Heaven, but cotton balls were very human. Castiel realized he liked the little cotton ball clouds little human children made, they were so.. Innocent and cheerful. He also liked human children.

He just liked humans.

0o0

Castiel did not like landing, it had been a strangely anxiety inducing experience, watching from the window as they hurtle towards the ground, knowing that if something went wrong, he was human and helpless.

Perhaps it was the realization that he could easily die in something as ordinary and mundane as a plane crash.

"Cas?"

The ex-angel blinked, turning from his pensive spot at the motel's smudged window. "Yes, Dean?"

The hunter kicks a chair out from the table, it squeaks pathetically against the fake wood flooring, wobbling on its three normal legs and cracked fourth. Castiel stares at it for a moment before seating himself firmly in it. Dean quirks a brow up, "So… Sammy and me heard strange stuff has been happening here, some murders attracted our attention first."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, seems like people were possessed or something, not the type for murder, they'd suddenly go wild and heads rolled."

Castiel's face puckered in thought. "Yes, it does sound possible, is there anything particularly unique about the murders?"

Sam sighed, his hands dropping from the table to his lap, "Just nice, quiet people suddenly going Jack the Ripper on their neighbors, own family members sometimes." He shrugged with a weak smile. "I'm sure we'll figure it out with a little more information."

Dean nodded, "Right, which is where you come in Cas." Castiel frowns, a tad petulant, no doubt Dean will tell him to stay quiet and out of the way because he's a human now, not a powerful, demon-smiting angel. Dean grinned suddenly, "Sam's going to hit up some local places, check out the scenes of the crimes, read and crap. I don't dig that, so you and me are gonna talk to the people."

"Ah." Castiel murmured to show he had heard Dean. "Thank you." He rumbled a moment later, a small smile on his face.

Dean shrugged and went to go get some beer, leaving Castiel and Sam to stare at one another for a few moments before Sam returned to his laptop, Castiel settled for staring blankly into the distance.

He was still adjusting to this, the long moments of nothingness that now composed his life, as an angel he had never stopped moving. There had never been a moment not occupied by one of Heaven's multifarious missions. He had always finished one job and started another, or reached a lull in a mission and switched to another for efficiency.

Now he sat here, trying to not think about how easily he could handle this if he had his Grace back. If he had that power buzzing in his blood again… The things he thought of in these still, sadly un-distracting hours. The missing weight of his wings was disconcerting and strange, it made him feel strange, a feeling he hadn't known before being human.

An empty, numb feeling that made his eyes get wet and if he forgot to blink enough sometimes a tear gathered and spilled over. He always wiped it away of course, tears caused alarm. Castiel was very much aware that the Winchesters could not help him. He sighs drearily, his face curls up with a hint of bitterness, and God could help. He smirks sadly; God just hadn't helped in centuries.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

"You okay?"

"Fine."

0o0

Not a human in this miserable town had been of use; Castiel stared listlessly out the passenger window, watching the white line on the tar as the Impala sped along, if they knew anything, they were hiding it.

Dean hums thoughtfully, flipping through radio stations before sighing. "Dude, do you even like music?"

Castiel blinks, "Yes."

Dean grins, "Great, what?"

"The song of my Father." Castiel smiles, "I rings through Heaven, makes my Grace shake with its power."

Castiel watches the smile fade from Dean's face, "Um, any human music?" Dean clears his throat, awkwardly turning his full attention to the road. "I don't get channel Heaven."

0o0

"Dean?" Sam queries, looking Dean up and down. Dean's normally fairly relaxed after long days in the Impala, but he looks painfully irritated.

"Cas." Dean growls. "He likes gospel radio stations."

"That bad?" Sam whispers, glancing over at the angel.

Dean just nods.

"Little shit's lucky I care about him."

* * *

So, yep, drabble, drabble!


End file.
